


Valid Reasons

by writteninink



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Break Up, Eslaf, F/M, It hurt me to write this, Toxic Relationship, she deserves so much better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28409082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writteninink/pseuds/writteninink
Summary: "It was getting harder and harder to breathe. It was suffocating."orEsmé isn't sure why she hasn't left him yet.
Relationships: Count Olaf & Esmé Squalor, Count Olaf/Esmé Squalor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Valid Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> tw physical/emotional abuse, toxic relationship  
> I obviously don't own asoue

Sometimes, Esmé wondered why she stayed with him. 

It was late at night at the top of a mountain when that question crossed her mind for the first time.  
The air was a bit too cold, the troupe a bit too agitated, and Olaf a bit too drunk.  
One wrong word escaping her lips, one time she had annoyed him too much with her moaning about the sugar bowl, and suddenly all she could feel was a sting on her cheek.  
Nobody pretended to notice, nobody comforted her when she gasped for air at the sharp pain her boyfriend's hand had left there, nobody pretended to care when she left the troupe soon after to make sure the bruises would not be visible in the morning anymore. 

Later that night, Olaf joined her in their tent, his breath smelling like alcohol, his filthy fingers cold on her skin when he unbuttoned her sleeping robe.  
When he kissed her, he tasted like cheap wine and broken promises, and if it wouldn't have been for the murmured apologies he whispered in her ear when he took her, she would have kicked him out again.  
Made him sleep in the snow.  
Like he deserved it.

But she let him stay, let him fall asleep in the thin sleeping bag next to her, his arms wrapped around her body so tightly that she had difficulties breathing.  
And maybe that was a mistake.

The second time Esmé asked herself why she hadn't just left him a long time ago was in a submarine, deep below the surface of the sea.  
He was yelling at her, because those bratty orphans had escaped again, and even though they both knew it hadn't been her fault, Olaf didn't calm down a bit.  
His eyes were narrowed, and his one eyebrow she had tried to shave so many times was furrowed in anger.  
Esmé was almost scared of him when he was like that, so furious and full of anger that he seemed as if he would hit her again, which had happened way too many times during the last few weeks.

Sometimes, she wished he wouldn't be so stubborn and she wouldn't be so proud.  
Deep down, she knew Olaf did too, she knew he wanted for their relationship to work, not only for their schemes – it was probably exhausting to work with someone you actually hated – , but also for himself.  
Because he wanted for things to work out at least one time in his life.

Maybe it had been a mistake to go with him, Esmé thought, when she looked at the pathetic and helpless man with the half empty wine bottle in his hand, who was sitting on the floor, his gaze remote and absent.  
He had stopped yelling at her, had fallen into the silent phase of regret and self-condemnation that came after the anger.  
Had started drinking.

Esmé hated to see him like that, not only because alcohol was out, and getting drunk on purpose even more, but because it hurt her to see him so desperate, so distraught he needed to drown his sorrows.  
She knew how this would end, she knew he would end up lying next to her in their tiny and uncomfortable bed, his hands on her skin and his eyes closed, while he whined silently how miserable he felt.  
She would then assure him everything was alright, they would get their revenge on Beatrice, they would capture those orphans, he would get his fortune and she would get her sugar bowl.  
He would kiss her over and over again, until his lips were swollen and her lipstick was smeared, showing himself vulnerable to her and only her, before he would fall asleep in her arms.  
And in the morning, when he was sober again, he wouldn't even look at her before getting out of bed to start a new day full of misery and failed plans.  
He would go on and pretend everything had never happened, pretend he was nothing but an evil Count with odious thoughts of revenge.  
Esmé knew she deserved better, she knew she deserved someone who appreciated her, who made her feel special, who completely spoiled her with money and love.

But she stayed with him, although he didn't do any of those things.

He treated her like one of his henchpeople, someone who worked for him, someone who was there all the time anyway, no matter what he did to her, instead of someone he claimed to be in love with.  
She knew she should leave him, knew he wasn't good for her, but something kept her away from doing that.

Maybe it were the looks he sometimes gave her, whenever their schemes succeeded; this little triumphant smile that made him seem more attractive than he actually was, his blue eyes shimmering as if he had just told a joke and was now waiting for her to start laughing.  
Maybe it was because of those nights in which he was sober but in a good mood, when he would kiss and touch her like he knew she loved it, make both of them feel as if they were on top of the world – figuratively.

But maybe it was just because he could give her what nobody else could – freedom.  
Adventures.  
The excitement of doing something criminal.  
He didn't have expectations how she was supposed to be, like all the people back in the city.  
Because he was just as fucked up as she was.

The third time Esmé cursed herself for ever going with him and leaving her comfortable penthouse, was when she was standing at the edge of a pond in the entrance of a hotel, wearing nothing but a few leaves of lettuce.

Olaf was shouting at her, not for the first time and probably not for the last, but it felt different.  
Not only because she suddenly was full of rage herself, or because they weren't alone as usual when they fought, but also because they both knew it would end.

They both knew they would break up, and that the whole time they had stayed together in the hotel had been a bad pretention, a horrible play they had continued just to complete their scheme. She knew he knew that as well as she did, and she also knew he wouldn't be able to stand this any longer.

He could only fool others, not himself. 

They both had ignored their issues, until it had become impossible. Until their lies had caught them.

He couldn't give her what she wanted, what she needed, what she deserved, and that was everything she could think about when he yelled at her, telling her everything he hated about her, everything he despised so utterly.

He had never been enough for her.

Everything she hated about him were things she despised about herself, everything he yelled at her for were the exact same reasons he couldn't look at his own reflection in the mirror sometimes.  
They were terribly twisted, and sometimes it had scared her.  
It had scared her how similar they were. 

When she finally walked away from him, she couldn't quite describe how she felt.  
A whining Carmelita was holding her hand, and for the first time in her life she didn't care about her, she didn't care how her daughter felt.  
Esmé was full of hate, regret, but also despair.  
She had abandoned her glamorous and fancy life for him, she had left everything behind to go with a man that didn't even shower regularly.

Sometimes, she had asked herself for the reason, had wondered why she had given up everything that was still so important to her; and now, in a night as dark as the wings of the darkest of all crows, she finally understood why.

It hadn't been the rough kisses, the triumphant smiles, not even the way he knew to touch her; it had been their miserably twisted and connected minds that had found each other and didn't want to separate ever again.  
Their thirst for revenge, the need to get back what had been stolen from them, the desire to avenge their friend's betrayal, which nobody else would ever understand.  
They had always been the same, even when they had been young, and time hadn't changed them one a bit.  
They belonged together, they needed each other, the way an eagle needed its feathers to fly, the way a lock needed a key to be opened, the way gasoline needed an ignited match to light a fire.

They had been doomed since the very beginning, they should have known they would end in flames. 

And maybe it was better that way.


End file.
